


【 it's gonna be o k a y 】

by firetan



Category: Nurarihyon no Mago | Nura: Rise of the Yokai Clan
Genre: 'okay but consider rikuo and zen', Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Lots of Other Characters - Freeform, Multi, but then my inner shipper said, happy(?) ending, i was originally gonna make this multi-chapter, including ocs - Freeform, look i'm sick and tired, so that happened instead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 15:06:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8921812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firetan/pseuds/firetan
Summary: Rikuo had known that he was going to outlive his human friends and many of his older yōkai friends, so it was a nasty shock when it was Zen that he lost first.





	

_As someone with yōkai Fear running through his veins alongside human blood, Rikuo knows that he is going to live a long time. His father, after all, had been over four centuries old when he was killed, and that was still in the prime of his life. Gyūki has lived for nearly a millennia, if not longer, and yet he looks young enough to be the parent of one of Rikuo's classmates. Itaku is over five hundred years old, and yet when he takes human form he looks scarcely a few years older than Rikuo. Yes, he knows that yōkai and those with yōkai blood will always live a very, very long time._

_That's why it comes as such a horrible shock that of all his friends, it is Zen that he loses first._

**\---------------**

It's not like he can say that it's sudden news when he hears that his friend's health has taken a turn for the worse, coming on the tail end of a particularly bad winter in his senior year of high school. Zen's been ailing since the events in Kyōto that lead to the rebirth of the Nue and the final death of Yamabuki Otome, and he himself had admitted that he didn't have much time left to live. In complete honesty, Rikuo's lucky that he didn't lose anyone precious in those battles in the first place, though there were some very close calls.

Still, it comes as a shock when Kurōmaru lands on the school roof where he's eating lunch with the rest of the Kiyojūji Paranormal Patrol (he's amazed they lasted all the way to high school, and are still going strong as some of the youngest primary human researchers of yōkai culture and history — he still has to introduce Kiyotsugu to Fuguruma Yōbi, but he thinks his friend might stop breathing at the sheer number of stories she could tell) and tells him that he needs to hurry home at once. By now, he's become used to the eclectic duties of a clan Head, and assumes that it's just another small uprising or an irritated board member causing a ruckus again, so he bids a cheerful farewell to his classmates and collects his shoes and bag before heading out. 

The teachers don't know about him (Except for Miss Yokotani, but that's a bit of an accident, really), so the cover he and his inner circle have formulated is that he has a part time job that calls for him at odd hours — as long as he keeps his grades up and shows he's learned the material, they don't particularly care how often he's in class. His human friends make sure to keep him up-to-date on the material, and he'll readily admit that they are some of his most valuable allies in maintaining the dual existence that he values so greatly.

He's pondering what sort of story he'll tell about this one (the last time he was called out, which was to discuss an emergency treaty with a small family of Ōkami from the nearby mountains after they clashed multiple times with the Gyūki clan, he told his curious classmates that he was called on for some emergency dog-sitting, much to the amusement of his friends who had been told the true story) as he walks through the gates of the main house, but the moment he sees his mother's pale, drawn face he knows something is wrong. "Mom? What's going on? Kurōmaru just told me I needed to come home—"

The remains of tear tracks are visible on her cheeks, and the first thing she does is pull him into a tight hug. He's grown taller than her now, even in his human form, so it's rather like hugging one of his close friends as he instinctively wraps his arms around her shoulders and fits his head over her shoulder. When she pulls away, her eyebrows are pulled in and not a trace of her usual cheer is in her eyes. "Rikuo, it's Zen."

"Zen?" With one word, his mind seems to still and slow. 

She nods sadly, taking his hand in hers and leading him inside the house to the room on the main floor that's all but been designated as Zen's for the increasing amount of time he's spent at the main house in recent years. "He's dying."

His feet keep moving, following his mother steadily down the hall, but in Rikuo's head it feels like time has frozen. It's not a surprise — well, at least, it shouldn't come as a surprise the way it does. He'd known logically that Zen was going to pass on anytime now, but somehow his heart just hadn't been able to accept that he would soon lose his oldest and — in many ways — dearest friend. It's as though his mind is unable to move past those two words, and they just keep circling in the empty space inside of his head the way Encho's words circled and possessed the people of Japan five years ago.

"How—" He finally manages to force words past his lips as they reach the closed door to Zen's room, voice rough and painful as it bursts from his mouth. "—how bad is he?"

Wakana sighs, wrapping one of her arms around his shoulders and rubbing her thumb in a circle on the fabric of his school uniform. "It's— it doesn't seem to be any more painful than before, at least."

"That's— good."

She nods silently and pulls open the door as gently as possible. "He wanted to see you before he— well, you know. Go on in. I'll let the others know you're home early."

Nodding, Rikuo steps quietly inside and slides the door shut behind him, wood clacking against wood and slipping silently under his sock-covered feet as he crosses the room to the still form laying on a double futon in the center of the space. The sliding screen doors to the back yard are closed and covered with a thick drape, casting the room into dim light that still manages to catch on the pale hair of his friend. Tsurara is kneeling on the floor, and has clearly been conjuring ice to ease the inevitable pain, but as he enters she rises and passes him to exit silently, only shooting him a mournful glance on the way out as he reaches the futons.

A weak chuckle escapes Zen's pale, pale lips as he turns his head slowly to look at Rikuo, one hand reaching up from beneath the layered blankets to tap softly against the younger's knee. Rikuo lifts it gingerly and wraps his hands gently around Zen's too-cold fingers as his friend's laugh turns into a cough that speckles his lips with blood, and when the bird yōkai speaks his teeth are tinted red.

"Hey, what's with that sad face?" His voice is raspy and quiet, and there's a quiet bubbling in his throat as he speaks. Even so, his smile is cocky despite the blood on his lips, and his eyebrows are tilted into his typical sardonic expression. "Joking, I can't actually see much anymore. Figured you'd have some sort of—" He breaks off into a coughing fit again, and Rikuo immediately leans over to dab at the blood with his sleeve (because what does it matter right now anyway) while he recovers his breath. "—some sort of soppy expression, since you're such an emotional bastard."

Rikuo's voice catches in his throat, and his eyes are feeling suspiciously damp. "S-shut up, you asshole. I'm not— not making—" A single warm tear slips down his cheek, followed by another, and he lifts one arm to rub brusquely against his eyes with a barely-disguised sniffle. "—damn it, you couldn't even wait for me to graduate, asshole. Why'd you have to give in now?"

"Hah!" A huff of breath escapes the older's lips, quiet and breathier than he's ever been. "Why would I want to spend more time around you bastards?" Blinking a few times, he tries to focus his eyes on Rikuo, gaze hazy and pupils dilated. Slowly, he reaches up with his free hand to rub a finger across his friend's cheek. "Oi, Rikuo, don't you start crying about me."

"Oh, f-fuck off, Zen."

Another sigh seems to billow out of Zen's lungs before he grunts and begins pushing himself up into a sitting position, breathing immediately growing sharp and shallow with the effort. Rikuo immediately leans forward to push him back down, but the sickly yōkai waves him off with as much force as he can muster, finally bringing his torso upright with a full-body shudder. "Look, I'm really nearly out of time. If I don't do anything, and nothing changes, I'll probably go in about five hours. But since you're here, I don't want to linger any longer."

Trying to breath calmly through his tears, Rikuo blinks at his friend in confusion. "What— what are you saying? Are— are you a-asking me t-to— to k-kill—"

"What?" Zen bursts into laughter that quickly dissolves into painful coughing, and Rikuo immediately jolts forward to support his friend as blood splatters onto the blankets. Seeming unfazed by the coughing, Zen turns to give Rikuo a red-lipped grin. "Hell no, I'm not asking you to kill me. What the hell sort of friend do you think I am?" His expression weakens, a flicker of pain finally passing across his features and twisting his smile into a grimace. "Nah, I want— I want you to wear me one more time, Rikuo. I want to give you my wings one last time before I go."

It's so absurd and so sweet (in the strange, particular way that yōkai can be sweet) that Rikuo doesn't say a word in argument, just allows his yōkai blood to take over his body and pulse in his veins as his hands hold just a bit tighter onto his dear friend. With a soft sigh, Zen releases his wings and his Fear for the last time, and it twines around Rikuo with the sort of blunt, honest warmth that has always characterized his friend's truest self. Once the bitter lilac Fear is completely anchored on his back, tendrils of warmth that climb across his shoulders and extend behind him in the manner of the bird yōkai's poison wings, Rikuo crosses his legs and closes his eyes, reaching for the inner part of his mind that Kurotabō had told him about.

He'd only had to try for about a year to find it, since it took up so much more space in his mind than it had in his father's, and when he'd finally reached it he'd discovered that — instead of the isolated island that the black-robed monk had described as finding in Rihan's mind — his inner center is the old cherry blossom tree in the main house's front yard. Now, he finds himself back in human form but clothed in his usual yukata and haori, sitting beside Zen in a branch so close to the crown of the tree, the flowers obscure any glimpse they might otherwise catch of the ground.

The older yōkai looks much better than he had in the material world, his complexion warmer and his eyes once again bright and sharp as he looks over at Rikuo. "I don't remember seeing this place the first time we did this. You been holding back on me, or something?"

"No— I didn't know how to come here back then. Kurotabō taught me for a year to find it."

Looking around, Zen takes in their surroundings with more energy than he's had for years, expression full of pleased amazement. "This is the tree in the yard, isn't it? You Nura clan folks sure do have a thing for cherry blossoms, don't you?"

Snorting, Rikuo tugs one leg up to his chest and shrugs. "It's just this and Meikyō Shisui: Sakura that really use it. We're more like moon folk, if you think about it." He sighs softly, because he can feel the Fear slowly dissipating in his physical body, and knows that within the hour, Zen will be gone. "Do you feel— feel better, in this place? Is the pain gone?"

"Hm. Mostly. I can feel something different with my body, but it's not—" Zen lifts his arms one by one, twisting his wrists and rolling his shoulders with a grunt of satisfaction, "—It's not bad. It's more like I'm lighter than I was before." He pauses, and when he turns to meet Rikuo's eyes once again it's with a look of understanding. "It's because I'm just my Fear right now, isn't it? And my Fear's going away, so there's less of me here every minute."

"Yeah." Rikuo's throat feels tight, which is ironic because this isn't bad news. "I'm— I'm glad you're not in pain now."

A laugh bursts from Zen's throat, but unlike the one before they performed Matoi, this one is full and strong and joyous. "I can't argue with you there! I'm better than I've been in years." He smiles and leans to the side, resting his shoulder against Rikuo's carefully. "In all seriousness, Rikuo, thank you. This is— this is the best thing you could have done for me, to make it easier." One arm is slung around the younger's shoulders, and Zen pulls him closer so he can rest their heads against each other.

Fresh tears prick at Rikuo's eyes, but this time he makes no effort to hide them or brush them away, instead leaning forward to wrap his arms around Zen's chest and press his face against the other's shoulder. He can feel the laughter shaking his friend's torso as Zen returns the embrace, and just tries to find some joy in his heart that the laughter isn't dissolving into a coughing fit, and never will. It doesn't quite work, but he really is glad that his friend can live out his last moments without the pain and illness that had plagued him for most of his short life.

They remain like that, curled around each other among the blossoms of his mind-tree, for a while. Perhaps five minutes, perhaps fifteen, Rikuo's not sure. Eventually, once his quiet tears have run dry, he grasps a bit harder onto the fabric of Zen's yukata and sighs heavily. "If you hadn't been going to die like this… what do you think you would have done with your life?"

"Hm?" Zen makes a face and knocks his head gently against Rikuo's, short hair brushing against his friend's forehead. "Well, I'd probably have kept on being a healer. Might have ventured into the human world, gone to one of their universities to study their medicine. They've come up with some pretty incredible stuff, for such short-lived creatures — well," He laughs again, "Not like I can say much about that."

Rikuo manages to laugh as well, although it's a somewhat watery one, and Zen grins before continuing. "And I think I'd have liked to fly — really fly, with my own wings carrying me somewhere far away. See some new sights, find new plants to teach you and everyone's favorite blockhead, Shōei about. And then—" 

He breaks off with a noise of surprise, and when Rikuo leans back to ask what's wrong he realizes that Zen's starting to fade away. His feet are dissolving into beautiful feathers, soft off-white dipped in a striking violet hue that blow away slowly in the wind and disappear amongst the blossoms. Their eyes meet, and the dying yōkai breaks into a new, softer sort of smile. "Looks like my time is about up, Rikuo."

The Third Head of the Nura clan nods, swallowing down the instinctive cry that no, it's too soon, he's not ready to say goodbye yet, and instead asking in a tight voice, "Anything else I can do before you go?"

"Bury me somewhere you can visit, so we can still share sake when you've got time. And— well," Zen's eyebrows are furrowed and his smile a little bittersweet, but he still manages to sound almost happy when he speaks, leaning closer until their foreheads are almost touching, "It might sound stupidly sappy and sentimental, but I always did want to see what kissing you might be like." Before Rikuo can muster a response, he leans even closer and tilts his head, fitting their lips together even as his arms begin to come apart in the wind. It's uncharacteristically soft and gentle, but to Rikuo it seems as though his companion is trying to tell him a thousand things in that one touch before the hourglass truly runs out, and he thinks he might understand.

A fresh tear rolls down his cheek as Zen smiles and mouths something silently against his lips, the rest of dying yōkai's body bursting into those beautiful poisonous feathers that tint the cherry blossoms lilac as they disperse, and Rikuo catches one in his hand and tucks it close to his heart as he ricochets back into his physical form. Back in the quiet room, Zen's body is still and cold, propped up against his chest, and he curls around the limp form of his friend and the single feather still clutched in his hand and sobs. 

He hears feet tapping and thudding down the hallway and the sound of the door being shoved none-to-gently open, and all of a sudden there are people all around him, murmuring and whispering and talking to him but in his mind it's nothing but static noise. There are hands on his shoulders that are too small and warm to belong to anyone but his mother, and she wraps her arms around him and presses her lips against the crown of his head, whispering something soft that he can't decipher through the fuzzy blankness. Someone tries to pull Zen away from him and he shakes his head, words somehow escaping between the sobs that wrack his body and telling them that they can't take him away, not now, he wanted Rikuo to bury him and Rikuo is going to bury him so they can't take him away now, they can't.

Finally, his mother's voice pierces the static humming in his ears, gentle and soothing. "Rikuo, Rikuo, it's going to be okay. They're not taking him away forever, they just need to prepare him for service and the funeral. Oh, my dear, it's going to be okay." She continues gently coaxing him until his stiff fingers unclench from the fabric of Zen's yukata and he falls against her shoulder, weeping quietly into his hands as the others around him quietly and efficiently lift his friend's body and carry it out of the room to another part of the house. Rikuo wishes he could be the one to carry his friend away, but his mother's soothing voice reminds him that he'll still be able to deliver Zen back to the earth when the time comes.

He's not sure how long he sits there, weeping until it seems as though his eyes have run dry, but at some point his mother's arms are replaced by another, stronger pair that lifts him up like a child and carries him back to his room to rest. A familiar tenor voice quietly informs him that they've called and excused him from school until at least the funeral, and that they'll all be standing with him when he needs to say his final goodbye. It's been a long time since Rikuo's needed support like this — he hasn't had chronic nightmares for over a year, his phantom pains disappeared around when he started high school, and he only has the occasional dissociative episode nowadays — but the small part of him that isn't white-hot and ice-cold with grief is grateful that it's still there now that he does again.

Kubinashi tucks him in the way the neckless yōkai would when he was still very small, in the years following Rihan's death when the clan was still figuring out how to fill the hole that it had left in his son's life, and takes a seat beside his bed like a guardian angel. Rikuo thinks that perhaps other members of his inner faction join them, but he's worn out and quickly falls into the dark relief of sleep, Zen's last feather still clutched in his hand.

**\---------------**

He holds onto the feather through the service and the funeral, where they bury Zen in the shade of the cherry blossom tree, and after it's over he asks his family — because his clan is his family — if they know a way to preserve it in amber so that he can keep it with him for as long as he lives. Tsurara goes a step further and seals it in a delicate crystal of ice, telling him that the tiny bit of Fear remaining in the feather will ensure that the ice stays solid as long as he resupplies it every year or so. It's an easy promise to make for the chance to keep a final memento from his friend by his heart, so he agrees and attaches a silvery clasp to the crystal, hanging it on a cord around his neck so that it will never be lost.

The feather stays with him throughout the years, a cold weight against his chest that remains constant even as everything else slowly changes. He grows, attends the local university part-time while managing the affairs of the clan, and watches his friends age around him. Kiyotsugu eventually becomes one of the top history and folklore professors in the region, working closely with Fuguruma Yōbi to make sure that the history of yōkai is not only preserved, but copied over so that even if one version is lost, the information will remain. They have a son together, an exuberant half-yōkai who proves to have an excellent memory and an even better wit for wry humor, and soon becomes his mother's apprentice in the historian trade. Jirō goes on to become a professional athlete, though he never settles down with a family and instead spends his off time traveling the world, eventually deciding to stay in Madagascar once he retires. He spends his time there exploring the natural habitats of the island and telling the locals fantastic stories about the demons and spirits of his hometown, though most of them don't seem to believe him.

Kana leaves Japan to attend an American university and falls in love with a man there who loves painting, and they settle down together in New York City in a small brownstone near Sunset Park.They have two children, a boy and a girl, and she tells Rikuo in a letter that she's named them Sōzen and Eve and that their favorite bedtime story is the tale of a Lord of Darkness who saves the world because he loves life. Meanwhile, Natsumi and Saori eventually marry each other and move into a cozy apartment in the middle of downtown Tōkyō, where they can pursue their careers together. They never have children of their own, but instead act as foster parents for teens who are moving through the system, wanting to provide a safe space for kids like them.

They all stay in touch by mail and phone, but Rikuo sees his friends less and less often as it becomes uncomfortably clear that they are aging and growing older, and he's not. Eventually, one after the other, they pass away and leave him with no further ties to the human world — his mother having died only perhaps a decade before, still smiling and soft-voiced until the end. 

At around the turn of his first century, he asks Tsurara to marry him. The way he feels for her isn't the same way he's realized that he felt for Zen, but she's understanding and kind and proves to be a fantastic wife and mother. They have three children together — a daughter and son who take after their father, with billowing hair and the ability to ripple like water, and a younger daughter who inherits her mother's golden eyes and frozen breath, carrying on the Yuki Onna tradition of freezing Hitotsume's single eye when startled (much to his aging dismay). His eldest daughter, Tsurari, eventually succeeds him as the Fourth Commander of the Nura clan, winning over new and old allies with her wit and bright laughter. Her younger sister, Rikana, becomes her primary advisor, a quietly powerful woman with hair the color of snow and a disarming smile.

His only son, Risei, is thoughtful and tranquil, and learns how to slip through the shadows more smoothly than any who came before him. Eventually, he leaves Ukiyoe and Edo to travel the country, learning about the yōkai of frozen Hokkaido and near-tropical Okinawa and becoming the primary correspondent between his family and the Keikain clan in Kyōto.

Yura lives nearly a century, and through the years she and Rikuo develop the sort of friendship that can only be built between biological enemies who have fought together in the same war and survived together with the same scars. She marries her older cousin, Akifusa, and together they lead the Keikain family to the strongest it's been since the time of the first Hidemoto, supported by Ryūji and Mamiru (who Rikuo always suspects were lovers, but they both pass on before his theory is ever confirmed) and the rest of her relatives. She and Rikuo become regular drinking partners, and when her grandson and successor eventually winds up as Risei's bedmate, Rikuo likes to imagine her causing a ruckus in the afterlife at the sheer temerity of a yōkai in a relationship with an onmyōji.

He lives for another four hundred years, watches the world change around him and leads his clan through it all. Kubinashi and Kejōrō finally manage to sort things out between them, and he spends a good century or so trying (and failing) not to accidentally walk in on them in extraordinarily compromising situations. Shōei becomes a dynamic clan head (and grows some surprisingly spectacular facial hair along the way), and together he and Rikuo advise Gozumaru when he ascends to the Headship of the Gyūki clan (with Mezumaru cheering every step of the way). Around him, his clan ages and changes, and he allows himself some pride at the thought that it was him that's brought them this far.

It's after one of his visits to Tōno (where Itaku now leads with a stern fist and intelligent eyes, Awashima at his right shoulder and Reira at his left) that he is attacked by a new revival of the Hundred Tales clan that Yanagida — now bent with the weight of over eight centuries — has orchestrated. He is powerful now, extremely so, but the power of one will still eventually fall against the power of many, and by the time Itaku and his allies in Tōno arrive, it's too late. Over five hundred years old and still not looking a day over twenty-five, Rikuo barely has the strength to tell Itaku what happened and what to tell his daughters before the darkness claims him, and the last thing he manages to say to his longtime friend and mentor is, "Bury me under the cherry blossoms with him."

Tsurara weeps when he is returned to the main house, and his daughters hold onto each other like lifelines as his body is lowered into the ground before they steel themselves and call for the clan to unite, reminding the gathered yōkai that this is not the end, but the beginning of a new era. Those who are left from Rikuo's Hyakki Yakkō watch and think that he would be incredibly proud of the children he's raised.

They make sure that he is buried with the feather clasped in his hands.

**\---------------**

_In a strange place, Rikuo wakes up to a gentle breeze and the scent of cherry blossoms. He opens his eyes and sees a familiar figure running towards him through the petals with a billow of purple fabric, and the feather held in his hands finally blows away into the wind as he finally looks up at a face he hasn't seen for far too many years. A familiar strange voice laughs loudly, and warm arms wrap around him and pull him into a tight embrace that he returns with all the same enthusiasm._

_It's been over five hundred years, and yet Zen's eyes still look down at him with the same delightfully sardonic spark as they pull apart, hands grasping each other's shoulders as though they think they'll disappear if they let go. Zen's wings are spread, wide and powerful and shimmering violet in the filtered sunlight, and Rikuo thinks that these are the wings that could take him anywhere. His voice is that same old rough baritone as it was before he died, but when he speaks it sounds rich and full with joy._

_"Hey, idiot. What kept you so long?"_

_"Clan to run, dumbass. You didn't have to wait for me."_

_Zen laughs, and the sound is music. "Like hell I wouldn't have. Now come one and hurry up — there's a bunch of folks here who've been missing you, and they'll get pretty damn mad if I make them wait." He shudders, evidently at the thought of the angry reaction he would receive if he did make them wait, and then grins conspiratorially. "Your onmyōji friend packs a mean punch for such a small lady, and she says you owe her four centuries worth of drinks."_

_Smile threatening to split his head apart, Rikuo twines their fingers together and chuckles as well. He knows that he'll miss those he left behind, but it's a tempered grief, because he also realizes that they'll join him here eventually, and that this isn't the end. It's just another new beginning._

_"Let's go, then."_

**Author's Note:**

> okay look i have no explanation. It's three in the fucking morning and I'm sick and I'm really gay and I needed the feels so I wrote some fucking feels. 
> 
> Actually, i do have an explanation. I was hanging around on youtube and came across the PianoGuys' original song 'It's Gonna Be OKAY" and I was hooked and it made me think of Rikuo coping with so many of his friends dying before him and stuff so i wrote a thing and whatever. it's a good song, you all should check it out.
> 
> un-beta'd and literally written in one night, so don't throw salt at me or whatever if it's not fantastic and perfect.
> 
> feedback is always welcome y'all thanks for reading. I'll edit this later when my brain isn't half dead.
> 
> EDIT 12/23: I fucked up his teacher's name. I'm so sorry. Her given name is Mana (which is what I fucked up), and her surname is Yokotani (which I totally forgot). I've fixed it now.


End file.
